The Cockroach- Danny and the Cliff
by Drachesky
Summary: The final chapter of the George Story. This is a Danny-centric story in which George plays a VERY minor role. George is a cockroach in the car Danny has borrowed for the week. Now Danny must finish solving the case and find a way out of a difficult situation.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is a stand-alone story that also functions as the last chapter of the cockroach story. I've re-written it so many times and finally gave up on ever using it as a final chapter. I think it works better here as more of a stand-alone.**

 **You'll notice a few continuity errors if taken with the rest of the cockroach saga, especially the date of Danny's car being fixed.**

 **George does NOT feature as a main character in this story; this is more about Danny, and is darker, with less hunor.**

 **Standard FYI: I don't have any experience in medicine/medic/rescue/fixing cars/etc, and am not really interested in fixing any mistakes contained herein.**

 **...**

Danny woke up the next morning with a very uncomfortable headache pounding behind his eyes. Uttering a soft groan, he lay still, eyes closed, and tried to determine why he was awake. Loud noise? Alarm clock? Lumpy mattress? Bad dream? But none of these ideas felt quite right as he tossed them around in his head. Aside from the killer headache, he also had a vicious throbbing that pulsed down his neck, but this also didn't seem to be the culprit for his sudden return to consciousness.

Maybe he could fall back asleep? Another hour or two in bed might just fix the headache and cure the painful twinge in his neck. Danny sighed deeply as he tried to relax and force his mind to drift, but a loud buzzing drowned out any other noise in the room. Danny attributed it and the headache to the early awakening.

Eyes squeezed shut, he focused on the deep throbbing which, he now realized, was in more than just his head. The aching pain radiated down his back and rippled along his arms, leaving a faint tingling sensation in his fingertips. Danny gently opened and closed his hand into a loose fist, prodding the palm of his hand with his fingertips. Why did he hurt? Was he still dreaming?

No… dreams didn't hurt. Not like this, anyway.

This needed an aspirin. Or something stronger.

With a pained moan, he forced his eyes open. The ceiling swam in front of him for a moment before solidifying into a soft, blue-grey wall.

Not his wall.

Definitely not his apartment.

Danny blinked uncertainly at the dark stains on the unfamiliar surface.

That wasn't his ceiling, either. It didn't look like cinderblocks or plaster. Was it cloth? He couldn't quite tell. And, now that he was thinking about it, was he even lying down? Or was he sitting up? Beneath the pounding headache, he struggled to regain some sense of orientation. A flash of color- sunlight?- dashed across the surface of the cloth-like background and he turned his head, following it until it landed on a window.

A car window.

He was in a car.

The spot of sunlight wavered before beginning its journey back across the cloth, and Danny was vaguely aware of a rocking sensation as his eyes trailed the light along the ceiling. Tip…rock… tip… A particularly ugly stain gave him pause, and he made a sudden deduction: he knew this car. It was his car. Or, rather, his neighbor's that he had borrowed for the week.

Danny chuffed a pleased sound at this simple deduction. It was nothing spectacular, but he wasn't sure that his brain was up to its normally spectacular work. And yet, despite this deduction, he was in no hurry to move. Sleepily, he examined the soft glow of the sunlight through the car and concluded that it must be early morning. He'd spent the night in his car.

He had no idea _why_ he had slept in his car nor how he had gotten here in the first place. The last thing he remembered was saying goodbye to Steve last night at the Palace. Then he'd gotten in the car and driven… where? Where was he? The only thing he could see outside was sunshine, and that was less than helpful. It also meant that he was late for work, and with a serial killer loose on the island, Steve would not be pleased when he walked into work tardy.

The car continued its slow rocking back and forth, and Danny shuddered and closed his eyes as his stomach roiled unpleasantly. There was something unnerving about the movement, a vague idea that something was terribly wrong, but Danny couldn't quite grasp what it was. The buzzing in his ears persisted, but behind it Danny caught the faintest hint of traffic and the morning surf pounding the shore.

Danny winced as a sudden bounce smacked his head lightly against the door. The bounce was followed by a slight crunching sound, and then the rocking motion again, this time more pronounced.

 _Why was the car moving?_ Danny wasn't driving, and the gentle rocking didn't feel like forward momentum. What would cause that type of movement? Danny wasn't sure he wanted to know. Still, he felt a desperate, insatiable _need_ to know, and it was because of this feeling that he finally lifted his head and looked around.

He was lying on the window.

Shocked, he looked down at the rest of his body and found that he was curled in a fetal position on the shattered pane of glass that, through some miracle of engineering, had not yet actually broken. Far beneath the glass- 50 feet? 60?- he could make out dark rocks, slick with water, and small dabs of white foam.

His stomach churned threateningly, and Danny closed his eyes and made a last, desperate wish for it to all be a dream. Perhaps he was about to wake up warm and snug in his own bed to the sound of the morning news on his TV. Steve would be at the door, knocking in his irritatingly-loud way, but he'd have a cup of coffee in hand for Danny and a banana or some other nastily-healthy snack waiting in the truck, and they'd drive into work together.

He wished with all his might.

The car shifted again, jolted, and nosed suddenly downward. Danny's arms shot out to catch himself as he was dumped from the window onto the ceiling, and he couldn't help a pained cry as he landed on his shoulder, trapping his right arm beneath him. Breathing hard, he tried not to move as the car settled. The rocking motion finally ceased, but Danny could feel the car shudder as winds buffeted the rocky cliff where he was perched.

From his new position, he could see only the damaged dash, with bits of plastic and wires protruding from the console. A scattering of glass shards near his head indicated that at least one window had broken, and the yellow fuzz stuck to his sleeve looked like it might have come from the inside of a seat. Below- or, rather, above- the dash, he saw a few pieces of trash clinging to the steering wheel, more glass and plastic pieces, and a shoe.

A large, black shoe, with a black sock, connected to a blue-jean-clothed leg.

Danny inhaled sharply as a memory suddenly rose to the surface.

 _"Hey. You Detective Williams?"_

 _"That's me." Danny straightened, popping his back, and set down the bags of trash he'd been hauling out to the dumpster. The kid in front of him looked to be in his 20's and definitely a mainlander. Danny couldn't recall seeing him in the neighborhood before, but that was hardly surprising since Danny was rarely home._

 _Hands stuffed in his 'Honolulu University' sweatshirt, the kid looked around the darkening parking lot nervously before addressing Danny again. "Hear you've been looking for the 'Midnight Stalker?'"_

 _"I can't comment on active investigations," Danny replied automatically._

 _"That's okay, man. I understand. Just wanted to know how close you were to catching him. Been feeling a little nervous going out at night, if you know what I mean."_

 _"What's your name?"_

 _"Jamel."_

 _"Look, Jamel- I don't think you need to worry about going out at night. Just don't go out alone and stick to high-traffic areas."_

 _"I hear ya, man. I'll play it safe."_

Danny twisted his head, cringing as pain flared along his neck. Squinting, he followed the jeans to a gaudy, blue-and-red Hawaiian shirt… the same shirt that he'd seen the night before, hiding under the sweatshirt. The hem fluttered in a breeze that wafted through the broken window, and Danny caught a glimpse of the SIG underneath, tucked into the belt. The man's face remained out of view, but he could see a hand, the fingers splayed lax across the ceiling, a dark stain soaking the cloth. Beyond the fingers, and just at the edge of Danny's vision, lay a cell phone.

Danny flexed his own fingers experimentally. He couldn't feel the arm trapped beneath him, but his left arm seemed to be in working order, so he shifted his weight and rolled slightly toward the phone, reaching out with his left hand.

The car shuddered. Danny froze.

A few bits of glass from the remnants of the windshield broke off and scattered across his face and arm. He scrunched his eyes closed and held his breath. The car swayed slowly to the left, then back to the right, the metal frame grinding as it scraped against the cliff face.

Danny shook his head slightly to clear the glass from his face.

The car tilted again, and Danny threw a leg behind him, hoping to add some weight in the right direction. The motion stilled.

A minute passed.

Then another.

Danny let his breath out slowly. Opening his eyes, he craned his neck back he could see the phone lying on the soft cloth ceiling near the man's body. He reached out cautiously with one hand, careful to keep his body still as his fingers inched toward the black plastic.

The man next to him stirred, rocking the car slightly and sending a trickle of glass spilling over the dash and onto the ceiling. Danny closed his eyes and waited for the movement to stop.

"Nice and still…" he whispered pleadingly to the man. "Just stay nice and still."

To his surprise, the other man stilled and the rocking stopped.

Danny cracked one eye open. The phone had slid a few inches further. Taking a deep breath, he stretched, reaching out as far as he could. His hand just brushed it, not quite enough to grab onto, so he rolled slightly, risking the car rocking and praying it wouldn't dump him on the rocks.

His fingers closed around the precious device. Danny heaved a sigh of relief, but there was something wrong. The weight wasn't right. It was too light.

Hand shaking, he held it up. The screen was dead.

Danny turned the phone over in his hand and groaned. The slot in the back where the battery was normally housed was empty. The phone was a cheap burner, an old model, and the battery had fallen out.

Exhausted from the wasted effort, Danny let both hand and phone fall to his side and closed his eyes in despair. Of all the possible ways to die, the combination of car crash, cliff, and ocean sat near the bottom of his list, right above _sucked out of airplane_ and _eaten by bear_.

" _Anything but this,_ " he muttered to himself. " _I'll take anything but this._ "

…

 _"Just tell me this: are you guys at least close to figuring it out? Cause my girlfriend, man, she's nervous."_

 _"Jamel, like I just told you, I can't comment on active cases."_

 _"Come on, man. Anything? I just need to tell her she's going to be alright."_

 _"Well, tell her to avoid going out alone after dark, and if she does go out, stick to well-lit, busy areas."_

 _"That's it? You can't tell me anything else?"_

 _"What do you want me to tell you? That we have a suspect? That we have an address? A license plate? A-"_

 _"You have a suspect?"_

 _"What? No. That was just an example."_

 _"You totally have a suspect, dude. I can tell."_

 _Danny sighed in exasperation. "Okay, first, I am not 'dude.' I am Mr. Williams or Detective Williams. And second, we may or may not have a suspect, but I can't comment that information."_

 _"It's okay man- Detective- sir. I won't tell anyone."_

 _Danny grimaced. "Go home, Jamel. Hang out with your girlfriend; enjoy the evening." Turning away, he picked up the two trash bags and continued to the dumpster._

 _He missed dark frown that clouded Jamel's face._


	2. Chapter 2- George is helpful

**In this chapter, George is helpful, in his own, small, peculiar way.**

 **...**

As the sun rose, the sounds of the morning birds faded until Danny was left with only waves, wind, and the unnerving creaking of his metal cage. Occasionally, he heard a car on the road above, but this did nothing to ease his mood: it wasn't as if anyone could hear or see him or phone for help. His best bet was a yacht or fishing boat passing by. If someone on board _happened_ to glance up at the cliff and _happened_ to notice the little blue car… but Danny doubted anyone would notice.

Danny clenched the dead cellphone in his hand. He debated throwing it out the window to vent some of his frustration, panic, and anger, but the momentum was also just as likely to pivot the car into a very undesirable position and dump him onto the rocks in an untimely death.

Danny exhaled shakily and rubbed his trembling hand over his shirt, smoothing the wrinkles out by habit. It was a brand-new shirt. Gracie bought it for him just a few weekends ago ' _just because I love you, Danno, and I thought you'd look good in it_.' Every time things seemed to be going his way, life would throw a curve ball and somebody would get hurt.

He pushed another shaky breath through his dry lips and ignored the small tear that slipped out from behind one eyelid. He'd take the whole Yakuza over this any day. Trapped in a metal box balanced on the side of a cliff- there was nothing to fight. Nothing he could do. He was powerless.

The single slid down his cheek and fell heavily onto the cloth beside his head. _You're a wuss, Williams_ , he thought to himself, but since no one was watching, Danny didn't particularly care. Beneath him, the car shuddered in the strong wind. Danny could feel the shifting and noticed that the angle of the rocks outside the window slanted oddly, and he realized the car had begun to point downwards. At some point, the car would roll again, and this time, there was nothing below to catch it until it fell into the surf.

That thought was almost more than he could take.

Heart racing, he trembled, on the verge of a very bad panic attack. He clenched his teeth, the air whistling across his tongue as he focused on his breathing. Danny counted in his head as he inhaled and exhaled slowly, working his way backwards from one hundred.

And then, as suddenly as his moment of panic had come, it was gone.

His teeth unclenched.

His hand quit shaking.

His stomach quit churning.

Even the obnoxious ringing in his ears ceased.

In the quiet that followed, Danny realized his arm was throbbing. Not the right arm- it was fine and still clutching the useless cell phone- but the left, which was mostly numb after being pinned underneath him for so long. He should probably change positions, he realized, and huffed at the prospect of an unnecessary movement that could hurtle him off the cliff. The discomfort in his shoulder would only get worse the longer he laid here, and that could be a very long time.

Carefully, he shifted his legs closer to the window and lifted his hips, trying to dislodge his arm or even part of his hand. Slowly, uncooperatively, he pushed the unresponsive arm to one side, wincing at a sharp pain that he couldn't identify. Finally, Danny rolled onto his back and lay there, panting.

The car remained still.

Danny lifted his head and got a first glimpse at his arm. " _Shit_ ," he breathed out.

The arm was broken. The bone hadn't penetrated the skin, but it pushed against the surface, and the rest of his forearm curved away at an unnatural angle.

Danny swallowed thickly. "Not good," he muttered. "Very, very not good."

…

Steve typed the number three times before he finally decided to call. Chin had taken a day off with Kono- despite it being the middle of a violent murder case, the two cousins had requested a day months ago for a family event on the North Shore, so Steve let them go. It wasn't like they had any good leads anyway.

Chin picked up almost immediately.

"Hey Chin, howzit?" Steve barely listened to the reply. "Listen, you heard from Danny this morning? … No? Has Kono? … Dang, okay. Look, uh," Steve ran a hand over his morning hair, "Just let me know if you hear from him. It's probably nothing." Hanging up, Steve looked again at the map on the screen. "SIGNAL NOT FOUND" flashed in large letters across the top where he had entered Danny's phone number.

"It's nothing," Steve muttered to himself, entirely unconvinced. "He's getting malasadas and the line at the bakery is really long. That's all it is. Nothing to worry about."

…

Danny threw up. He hadn't eaten since last night, so there wasn't much to come up. Since he was lying down, there wasn't anywhere for it to go, either, and he ended up soiling his shirt, the upholstery, and one of his nicer ties.

He groaned. He hated the smell of vomit. And how was he going to explain the state of the car now?

His arm might have been numb before, but feeling now returned and it wasn't pleasant. Danny wiped his mouth on his good arm, gagging from the smell, and lifted his head carefully. There had to be something in this junk heap that he could use to stabilize the break.

In his immediate vicinity were a few take-out containers, empty soda cans, and some old newspapers, some still in the bag. To his left, plastic pieces of the dash and glass from the windshield added to the mess. Still, it was cleaner than he expected. Some of the trash must have been flung out the broken side windows when the car flipped.

As his eyes roamed over the destroyed dash, a familiar brown roach suddenly popped out of the cassette player and ran across the broken surface.

"Hey, George," Danny muttered. The roach paused to look in his direction, then jumped down to the cloth ceiling near his legs. "Don't suppose you see anything I can use to splint an arm?"

George didn't reply. He had taken an interest in greasy paper bag.

Danny sighed. "Fat lot of help you are."

George rustled from somewhere within the bag, clearly engrossed in the leftover scraps.

Annoyed, Danny swatted the bag and the roach ran out, scurrying over a few wires, then under a torn magazine, and finally came to rest on a small, black square.

Danny glared at him.

George wiped his antennae.

Then Danny noticed the small, black square underneath the insect. He frowned as his brain slowly processed what he was seeing. Holding up the dead cell phone, he looked at the empty spot in the back. Then he looked again at the roach's podium.

"Son of a…" Danny breathed. George scurried off. Setting the phone on his chest, Danny reached out cautiously, pawing over the trash toward the precious piece of plastic and metal.

The car listed slightly, but Danny ignored it. He stretched, grunting as he struggled to reach the life-saving device. Just another inch…

His fingers brushed the battery, and he seized it at once before it could slip away.

Hand shaking, Danny slid it into the phone. A moment later, the ancient screen lit up with a soft green light and a faint beep indicated the phone was ready. Holding it awkwardly above his face, Danny entered the number and dialed.

" _McGarrett_."

"Steve?" Danny's first attempt came out as a whisper and he tried again. "Steve?" Voice shaking, Danny pulled the phone away from his ear to check that the screen was still lit. "Can you hear me?"

" _Danny? Where are you? Been trying to call you all morning-_ "

"Steven," Danny cut him off using his full name, and Steve stopped at once.

" _What's wrong? Where are you?_ " he asked, his tone completely changed.

 _"_ I, uh…" Desperately, Danny sought about for some indication of his location, but above was only the sky and below was water, and there was nothing else much to be seen. "I don't know. In my car."

 _"Where's your car?"_ In the background, Danny could hear the faint sound of the main computer and knew that Steve had begun to run a trace on the phone. _"Northshore? Kailua? Manoa?"_

"Don't know that either. Side of a cliff. Water."

 _"Are you in the water?"_

"Not yet. About…" Danny squinted out the remains of the windshield and tried to guess how high he was. "About fifty feet above it. Give or take." Danny coughed, then groaned at the pain that flared through his ribs. "I think we're okay for the moment. Not going anywhere." He grimaced at this rather obvious statement. Any other time, it would've made a good joke, but even his dark sense of humor wasn't in a joking mood at the moment.

" _You don't sound so good,"_ Steve responded, a hint of worry mirrored in his own voice. _"You okay?"_

" M' okay," Danny mumbled into the mouthpiece. He tried not to look at his arm. "Just banged up a bit. And sore." _And scared to death_ , he added to himself as the car creaked and groaned in the persistent offshore wind. Pushing himself further away from the other passenger, he tried to shift his weight to bring some balance as the car continued to rock precariously.

 _"Just sit tight."_

"Like I can do anything else," Danny muttered.

Steve ignored him. _"I'm working on your location now."_

"And then what?"

 _"We'll send rescue your way,"_ Steve stated matter-of-factly. " _SAR will have you out of there soon."_

"That might be a bit of a problem."

 _"Relax, D. A little cliff is nothing to worry about. They've dealt with rescues like this before."_

"Actually, that's not what I meant. It, uh… it's a bit more complicated than that," Danny frowned, twisting around for another look at his unconscious companion. Memories of the previous twelve hours continued to surface, and he suddenly had a much better idea of what had transpired. "You know that serial killer case we've been working?..."

…

 _Knock, Knock, Knock._

 _"Coming!" Yawning, Danny shuffled toward the door and threw a glance at the clock on the wall. 6:15 a.m. Even for Steve, it was early, but maybe Aquaman had skipped the swim today._

 _Knock, Knock, Knock, Knock!_

 _The impatient staccato on his door did nothing to improve his morning mood, and Danny began selecting some choice words for his partner once he reached him. Before he could reach the latch, however, the knocking came again, this time accompanied by the doorbell._

 _"I'm coming, I'm coming, sheesh! Hold your horses, Steven!" Grumpily, Danny threw open the door. To his surprise, his partner wasn't the one standing outside._

 _"Detective Williams?"_

 _Squinting over his mug of morning coffee, Danny recognized the same young man in the doorway whom he had met by the dumpster the night before. The dark hoodie and khakis had been replaced by a T-shirt and jeans, and one hand rubbed nervously through his curly hair. Danny couldn't quite recall the name. Janus or Jaden or something like that…_

 _"It's Jamel, from last night…"_

 _"I remember, but I'm on my way to work," Danny interrupted impatiently, perhaps a little too bluntly. He didn't have enough caffeine in his system yet to be nice. The man looked nervous and Danny wondered if perhaps something had happened the previous night with his girlfriend. "Did you ever go out last night?"_

 _"What?"_

 _"You said you were going out with your girlfriend last night."_

 _The man's confusion suddenly cleared and he nodded shortly. "Yeah, yeah, me and her went out."_

 _"Okay…" Danny tapped his fingers impatiently on his mug while he waited for whatever pressing question the man had._

 _"About that serial killer case-"_

 _"No." Danny moved to shut the door, but Jamel shoved a foot in the crack before it could close._

 _"I wasn't asking." Suddenly, Jamel pointed a handgun through the door. Shoving a surprised Danny inside, he kicked the door shut behind him. Danny backed up slowly, one hand raised, the other clutching his cup of coffee. If he were Steve, he would throw the hot coffee in the man's face and knock the gun out of his hand, but Danny tended to play it safe. He had a daughter and a son, after all, and they needed him. He wasn't about to take unnecessary risks._

 _"What do you want?"_

 _"Where's your service weapon?"_

 _"Over there. Kitchen counter." Both hands raised, Danny nodded toward the small kitchenette where he had laid it a few moments before. Jamel kept the gun trained on him as he tucked Danny's weapon into his belt._

 _"Sit down. Both hands on the table." Jamel waved the gun at the kitchen chairs, and Danny sat down obediently. "You got handcuffs somewhere? Zip ties?"_

 _"That would be my partner," Danny said. He risked a sip of coffee._

 _"Hey!" The movement caught Jamel's attention. "Put it down. Hands on the table!"_

 _"Okay, okay. It's just coffee." Danny laid both hands flat on the table. "My hands are on the table. What now?"_

 _"Now you answer my questions."_

 _…_

 _"Shit, D,"_ Steve breathed. _"You mean he's in the car with you?"_

"Yeah, but he's unconscious right now. Don't know how long he'll stay that way." If Danny craned his neck, he could see the slight rise and fall of the man's chest. "Hopefully long enough for me to get out of the car."

" _Do you know who he is? Jamel… last name?"_

"Nope. Just Jamel. Young, early 20's maybe." Danny tried to picture details from the night before. "Doesn't seem like a tourist, but doesn't blend in either. Looks like native Hawaiian, but Jamel isn't a Hawaiian name that I know of."

Faintly, Danny heard Steve tapping on the keyboard as information was entered into the system. "He's injured, but I don't know how badly. I can see blood under one of his hands, but I can't really see anything else."

 _"Is he armed?"_

"Yeah. A SIG tucked in his belt. And he's got my service weapon somewhere."

 _"Can you reach it?"_

Danny eyed the distance between himself and the gun. " _Can_ isn't really the optimal word for this situation." Setting the phone down, he gingerly reached out with his good hand toward the weapon. The car immediately tipped downward, and Danny jerked back, throwing his weight in the other direction. "Shit!" he yelled as pain spiraled down his broken arm. His vision greyed for a moment and he gritted his teeth as his stomach jerked with dry heaves.

 _"Danny?"_

Danny squeezed his eyes shut and moaned in a low voice. The car, unsettled by the movement, tilted unevenly back and forth like a horrific see-saw, creaking and groaning with each cycle. For a moment, Danny was sure he was about to be pitched into the ocean. If he'd had anything left in his stomach, he would have vomited again.

A long minute passed while Steve's voice echoed faintly from the cell phone:

 _"Danny?...Danny! Hello!... What happened? Talk to me, buddy,"_ Steve pleaded, but Danny refused to move again until the car's motion had ceased. Then, shakily, he held the phone to his ear.

"Not gonna work." Danny gulped a few deep breaths.

 _"Okay. That's okay,"_ Steve said, doing his best attempt at a soothing voice. _"Too far away?"_

"Kinda, yeah. Car tilts." His voice shook slightly. "Listen, uh… tell me something good. I could use some good news right about now."

 _"Good news… We found your location."_

"Really?" Danny tried to listen for any sign of rescuers at the top of the cliff, but caught only the faint sound of traffic and the screams of the gulls and terns. "I don't hear anyone."

 _"I just notified them."_

"That's good," Danny breathed out in relief. "And, uh… where am I?"

 _"Looks like cliffs off Kalanianaole, near the overlook."_

"Huh." It was a rugged area on the southeastern tip of the island, and the nearest help would be a good 20 minutes out, assuming no traffic. Danny frowned, struggling to remember what had happened after Jamel forced his way into the apartment. "Jamel must have forced me into the car at one point, but I don't remember."

 _"Did you hit your head in the wreck?"_

Danny lifted a hand and gingerly patted his scalp. The front seemed okay, if a bit sweaty from the heat, and there was nothing unusual in how the back of his head felt. He threaded his fingers through his hair, rubbing along the side of his scalp, past his ear-

"Ow." Danny jerked his hand away at the flash of pain from the slight touch. "Geez. Yeah."

 _"What's wrong?"_

"My head… sensitive on the left side, behind the ear." He gingerly ran a finger over the spot again and recoiled at the sharp pain. "Doesn't seem to be bleeding, but sure hurts like a bitch."

 _"So concussion maybe. You hurt anywhere else?"_

Danny lifted his head for another look at his arm. "Yeah. Arm's broken."

 _"How bad?"_

"Compound fracture."

 _"You splint it?"_

Danny tried to roll his eyes and ended up grimacing instead. "Sure, Steven. I just grabbed the med kit out of the trunk and fixed up a nice splint for myself."

 _"You should splint it."_

"With what, Doc? In case you've forgotten, I'm trapped in a metal box balanced precariously on the side of a cliff. Oh, and there's a serial killer in the passenger seat."

 _"Look around. There's got to be something,"_ Steve persisted. He wasn't much for sympathy.

Danny followed this advice with a disgruntled sigh. "I've got fast-food containers, soda cans, some straws, old magazines, Styrofoam, something that looks suspiciously like Ramen noodles-"

 _"Hold on, magazines?"_

"Yeah." Danny snagged one by the corner and pulled it closer. "Do they even publish _Life_ anymore?" he asked, flipping it over to see the faded cover.

 _"How big is it?"_

"I dunno. Couple inches bigger than computer paper."

 _"Wrap it around your arm. Use several if you can. You got something to tie it with?"_

Danny could see where this was going. The hard part, though, would be getting the magazine under the arm. He frowned as he considered the easiest and least-painful way of sliding the magazines under his now multi-jointed appendage.

 _"It'll probably hurt,"_ Steve commented unhelpfully after a pause.

"I figured that out already, thank you Steven," Danny snapped back. "Just shut up for a minute and let me work." Setting the phone aside, he loosened his belt, arched his back and pulled on the buckle until the thing finally slid out from under him. Then he laid it under the magazines and pushed the whole thing up against the side of his arm. "On three," he muttered to himself, teeth gritted in anticipation. "One, two…"

It only took a second. But in that second, Danny felt like his arm was exploding. He yelled and let loose a string of curse words that would have made Steve's drill instructors proud.

" _Well… did you survive?_ " came Steve's drily unsympathetic voice over the phone.

"Shut up," Danny panted. Forcing back bile, he cinched the makeshift strap on the splint and studied his handiwork. It wasn't a half-bad job, he admitted to himself. He lay still, however, until his stomach had settled and the pain lessened to a low throb. "Okay… now what?"

" _Anything you can use as a weapon if your friend wakes up?_ "

"Maybe if I were you. And these ramen noodles _should_ be a weapon," Danny returned, shaking a loose noodle off his foot. "but unless I manage to strangle him with the noodles or turn these Styrofoam takeout containers into explosives, then no- no weapons."

" _No loose metal? Large pieces of glass?_ "

"No, MacGyver." Exhausted, Danny closed his eyes and listened to the waves washing the rocks below. The car was heating up in the hot sun, and what had been comfortably warm an hour ago was quickly becoming unbearably hot. "How far out are those rescuers?"

" _Any minute now,_ " Steve responded. " _How you holding up?_ "

"Okay. A bit warm." Danny loosened his tie with his good hand and carefully unbuttoned the first few buttons, wrinkling his nose at the sticky smell of vomit on his shirt. "Wouldn't mind some of Kamekona's shaved ice right about now."

" _After we get you out of there, I'll buy you all the shaved ice you can eat,_ " Steve promised. " _I'm on my way there now._ "

"Good, good," Danny murmured. He thought he heard sirens approaching in the distance. "Hey Steve? Listen, if something happens…"

" _Nothing's going to happen._ "

"You're way too optimistic," Danny muttered. Somewhere on the cliff above, he heard shouts, incoherent at first, followed by someone calling his name. "DOWN HERE!" he yelled, then clutched the side of the car as it rocked slightly. He couldn't make out the reply.

" _I take it the cavalry has arrived?_ " Steve asked over the phone.

"Yeah. How far out are you?"

" _Five minutes._ "

"Good, cause we have a new problem." Danny turned his head toward the low noise that had caught his attention. "Jamel is waking up."


	3. Chapter 3- In the Coffin on the Cliff

**A/N: apologies for being late. I'm playing this delightful game called Life… and it sucks. On the plus side, I've discovered the secret to helping lettuce seedlings survive a deep freeze involve shedded dog hair, cardboard, and bubble wrap. Here's the next segment:**

 _"Good, cause we have a new problem." Danny turned his head toward the low noise that had caught his attention. "Jamel is waking up."_

…

" _Nnnnggghh…_ "

Danny found himself at a disadvantage- he could hear Jamel groaning faintly but couldn't really see much of the man at all. Most of Jamel lay just at the edge of his periphery or completely out of sight. Based on the sounds, Danny decided that Jamel was still quite a way from being cognizant… but that was only a small comfort.

Danny debated briefly whether he should attempt to change his position. Still, even if he could see Jamel better, it wouldn't help him if Jamel reached for his gun.

…

A high-pitched whine caught his attention and he turned his head toward the noise, catching a flash of sunlight off something outside the window.

"The heck…?" he muttered.

" _Danny?"_

Danny had almost forgotten that Steve was still on the phone. "There's something outside," he squinted, trying to catch another glimpse of the thing.

 _"It's a drone,"_ Steve responded. _"They sent a drone out to see what it looks like. They're not sure how stable the wreck is; the damage is pretty significant._ "

"I already know the damage- I owe my neighbor a car."

Steve chuffed a humorless laugh. " _I think he'll forgive you_."

Danny tracked the annoying buzz as the drone flew over the wreckage. There wasn't enough space for the large quadcopter-like machine between Danny's window and the cliff, but he caught a glimpse of it outside of the other window and waved with his good hand. "Well? How's it look?"

It took Steve several minutes to reply. Danny guessed he was viewing footage with the rescue crew. He caught snippets of the discussion in between Steve's muffled questions and pieced together that they were unhappy with something, but he wasn't sure what. "Steve?"

" _Still here. Just reviewing the drone footage._ "

"How are we looking?"

" _It's pretty banged up. EMTs say it's a miracle you aren't worse off._ "

"Thanks."

" _Knew that thick Jersey skull would come in handy,_ " Steve quipped, but the lightness was missing from his tone.

Danny felt a worrisome quiver in his stomach. "What aren't you telling me?" he asked uneasily, twisting to follow the sound of the drone as it circled the car. "What's wrong?"

" _There's nothing wrong, Danno_ ," Steve replied much too calmly. " _Need to recite the Mets lineup?_ "

"Why would I need to recite the Mets lineup?" Danny demanded.

" _It's a small enclosed space and you're claustrophobic,_ " Steve explained unhelpfully. " _I just assumed…_ "

"I don't need any reminders about where I am," Danny ground out, irritation overriding unease. He flinched as something smacked the top of the car. "What's happening now?"

" _Uh… a cable._ "

"I thought they already did that?"

" _Yeah._ _This one is going to wrap around the car. Keep the top from popping off and dumping you two onto the rocks._ "

"Oh." Danny swallowed drily. He wished suddenly that he hadn't asked. He didn't need to know those details. "You know, there are some things you don't have to tell me."

" _It's gonna take them a while to do this. Just try to relax, okay?_ "

"Relax," Danny snorted. "Yeah, sure."

" _They're going to lower a rope on the other side of the car and send a guy down. He won't be able to do anything- they just want a better idea of what it's like inside._ "

"Okay." Danny could do with a friendly face. "But you know that's like being told to look at a huge steak and not eat a bite of it."

" _I know, buddy. And if I could do anything about it, I would_."

Danny didn't doubt that. As for why Steve wouldn't be the one on the rope, Danny could only assume that he had some other, more important purpose up above, but still… Danny huffed. It would've been nice if Steve could rappel down to him. Or skydive. Or something.

A skittering of rocks distracted his attention to the window, and he noticed a thick cable now dangling outside the window between the car and part of the cliff. The cable wiggled, swung wildly for a moment, and more rocks cascaded down, thumping and clattering loudly on the car's underbelly.

"Shit," Danny muttered as the car listed slightly. He threw out a foot to try to correct the balance.

" _Danny?_ "

Hand shaking slightly, Danny tried to focus on his partner's voice as another shower of rocks cascaded across the vehicle. "Hey babe? Think you can, ah, tell them to hold off for a few minutes?"

" _Hold off? Why?_ "

"Sounds like they're bringing down the cliff on us in here."

" _Danny, they're securing the car."_ Steve's voice was muffled over the growling of several trucks. _"You need to recite the-"_

"Will you quit asking that?!" Danny interrupted in exasperation. He wiped a sweaty hand across his eyes and exhaled shakily. "Does this mean I can move now?"

 _"I wouldn't try it. How's our friend?"_

Risking a slight shift in position, Danny strained for a better look at Jamel. The man had begun muttering incoherently, and his fingers twitched against the cloth fabric of the ceiling. Not fully awake, his eyes moved restlessly under their lids as though in the middle of a violent dream. Like Danny, a sheen of sweat covered his skin and had soaked through his shirt, but unlike Danny, there was also a dark stain of blood behind his shoulder.

"Still out," Danny reported. He lay back, thinking. Everything in the car- Jamel, the gun, the door- was so close… but still too far. He sighed and closed his eyes. The heat was nearly suffocating as the sun approached its zenith, and Danny ran a damp sleeve over his face in the hope of some relief. He chided himself for complaining about New Jersey winters. What he wouldn't give for a huge snowdrift right about now…

" _Danny? You still with me, man?_ "

Danny licked his dry lips. "Not going anywhere, Steven." Each hot, stuffy inhale lasted an eternity. "Any chance I could get some water? Or ice?"

" _They're already working on it. Just hang in there._ "

"Any chance you can come down and hang out for a bit?"

" _Miss my handsome face?_ "

"Your ugly mug is an improvement on present company."

" _How's the cell phone battery?_ "

Danny pulled the phone away from his ear and glanced at the screen. "Not great."

" _You need to turn it off_."

"You want me to go loco? This thing is my lifeline, my only connection to sanity. I can't do that."

" _Yes, you can. I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere._ _Besides, what if it dies and…_ "

"-and I really need it? Yeah, yeah." Danny huffed a frustrated sigh.

" _You're doing real good, buddy. It'll just be a little while longer._ "

Danny grunted.

" _I'm going to hang up now. Okay?_ "

"Yeah." Danny's voice sounded shaky to his own ears. "Yeah, okay," he added in a stronger voice. "See you soon, you big goof."

" _Right back at ya._ " And then, with a small click, Steve was gone.

Danny stared at the screen. 19%, enough time to call Grace and Charlie. Tell them how much he loved them… a few parting words of wisdom… Danny stopped with a sharp shake of his head. _"Suck it up, Williams,"_ he muttered to himself. " _Nobody's dying today_."

He closed his eyes and tried to picture the rescue scene above. He imagined large cranes with hooks and cables hanging down, and men in harnesses rappelling down the cliff to attach the cables to the car. Then a smiling face would appear at the window, open the door, and pull him out into the fresh air. He'd he hauled up to the cliff, given a cup of ice water, some cooling blankets, more ice water…

Danny quashed thoughts of cold as his stomach churned uncomfortably from the heat. Each exhale felt hotter than the last, oppressively suffocating his parched lips and throat. Realistically, Danny figured he had at least an hour left… but he wasn't sure if he could make it that long.

" _Unnnngh_ …"

Danny's skin prickled nervously as he looked at his semi-conscious companion. Jamel was nearly awake and beginning to move, his legs jerking and twitching with more vigor. As Danny watched, Jamel rolled onto his back and the car pitched, groaning against the cables holding it in place. Danny heard a few shouts from the cliff above, but he couldn't make out the words- he was too focused on Jamel.

"Easy," Danny soothed in a low voice. "Just take it easy… stay still."

Jamel mumbled incoherently and threw his hand over his face.

Danny winced, but the car stayed fast.

" _Detective Williams?_ " came a loud voice.

"Yeah?" Danny responded, as loudly as he dared.

" _Hold still, sir. We're trying to get you out."_

 _"I'm not the one moving!"_ Danny yelled in return, but they must not have heard.

 _"We're sending someone down. Don't move!_ "

Danny didn't respond. He watched as a rope dropped down on Jamel's side of the car, wiggled, and then began a slow sway as someone descended toward them. A moment later, a face appeared at the window.

"Detective Williams?" the young man asked, peering into the interior with a small flashlight.

Danny raised a hand briefly. "That's me."

"I'm Gavin, SWAT medic," the man said. He looked barely old enough to drive. "I'm going to check out your friend here," he said, maneuvering on the rope until he could angle his arm inside the vehicle.

"Not my friend," Danny couldn't help correcting. He watched quietly as Gavin took the unconscious man's wrist and counted silently for a moment. When the medic was done, Danny asked, "Do you see his gun?"

Gavin shone his flashlight around the interior. "Yup. Right there," he pointed with the beam toward the car seats. "But it's wedged between the cushion and the door- I can't reach it."

"At least he can't reach it either," Danny remarked, grateful for the small favor. "He's got another one, though. Waist, tucked into his belt." Danny propped himself up on his elbows to see better.

"Hey man, just hold still. I can see it." Gavin leaned into the car, careful not to touch the frame, and stretched toward Jamel's belt. Without coming inside, however, he came up short, and the second weapon also remained out of reach.

"I could crawl over there," Danny offered.

"No sir. Car's pretty unstable. Wouldn't want to risk it." Gavin pulled his arms out of the window and leaned back on his rope comfortably. "We've got a little grabber stick that could reach it. I'm going to head up to your friend Commander McGarrett and come back down with the stick."

"So, uh… When are you going to get me out?"

"Not for a while, sorry," Gavin grimaced. "We can't get in on your side, and we're still waiting for them to finish stabilizing the car with cables. Then we have to get this guy out first. After that, we'll come inside and get you."

"Great." Danny looked around his 4-door prison at the disarray and spotted an empty soda can. "Any chance I can get some water? Kinda warm in here."

"I'll bring some down with me on the next trip." Gavin clipped his flashlight onto his belt. "Hang in there, Detective. You're almost home." Then he climbed up the rope and disappeared.

 _Almost home_ … Danny managed a small smile in spite of himself.


	4. Chapter 4- George causes a problem

" _Uhhhhgh… Hurts…_ "

Danny's eyes popped open. He'd closed them for just a minute and had been trying to keep himself calm in the heat by thinking of an enormous cone of Kamekona's shaved ice. He could taste the cherry red on his tongue… the twang of blue… the slight shiver as ice water numbed his throat. Not quite hallucinating, he'd been closer to dreaming when this new, disconcerting noise broke through. Twisting his head, he saw Jamel was fully awake and rubbing a hand slowly across his face.

"What…?"

Danny bit his lip. He expected Gavin the medic to be back any moment now… but that would be too late. That timeline had now expired, mere seconds ago. He watched Jamel blink slowly, squinting as he tried to get his bearings.

"What… happened?"

Danny didn't answer. He was imagining himself rolling across the car, somehow flipping Jamel over, disarming him, heroically climbing up the cliff to applause… and falling onto the rocks below. Even without his injured arm, he doubted he could make the scenario work to his benefit.

"I know… you're awake." Jamel's hand fumbled toward the weapon in his pants and Danny stiffened.

 _Please leave the gun alone,_ he wished futilely.

"I… I asked you a question… detective." Jamel somehow pulled the gun free from the waistband of his pants. His hand shook slightly as he lifted the weapon and checked the chamber. "What happened?"

"We were in a wreck," Danny responded slowly. He winced as a trickle of sweat rolled down his forehead. "Flipped off the road."

"I kind of… figured… that out," Jamel slurred as he swung the weapon in Danny's direction. "Where are we?"

"Hey, easy, take it easy," Danny murmured, raising his one good arm. He listened for any sound of Gavin coming back down the rope. "We're in my car."

"No shit, Einstein." Jamel wiped a hand over his face and winced. "And where's the car?"

"On the side of a cliff." Danny pointed out the window at the rocks visible through the broken glass. "Just try not to move and maybe we'll all come out of here alive." As he spoke, something hit the top- bottom- of the car, sending a slight shudder through the frame.

Jamel blanched and threw an arm out toward the door. "What was that?"

"They're attaching cables to stabilize the car. Once they do that, they can send someone down to get us out." Danny edged the phone out of sight with his bad arm and fumbled for the button to turn it on. "As long as we don't move, we're safe." He felt a small vibration in his hand as the phone powered up. Closing his eyes, he punched in the number he knew by heart.

…

 _"What's the plan here, Jamel?" Arms raised slightly, Danny followed the gunman's pointed directions down the stairs and into the parking lot of the apartment complex. Their conversation in the kitchen had been brief, and any immediate danger averted when Danny pointed out that the neighbors would be alerted to any noise they might make- particularly gunshots. Jamel had reluctantly backed down in his threats and instead forced the Detective outside, hoping to go somewhere a bit more 'private.'_

 _"Maybe I can help you out," Danny offered._

 _"You? Yeah, right," Jamel scoffed. He turned around, scanning the small lot. "Where's your car?"_

 _"I'm sure we can work something out, something where both of us walk out of here alive. If the DA hears you were helpful…" Danny stopped abruptly as the gun bumped hard against his back._

 _"I don't give a damn about the DA," Jamel hissed. "I just want to find your car. You want to be helpful? Get to the car before someone comes out of the building and I have to shoot them."_

 _"Okay… okay." Danny pointed across the pavement toward the beat-up, blue vehicle. "It's over there. By the telephone pole."_

 _"Get in. We're going for a drive."_

 _…_ Danny raised his head slightly and caught a glimpse of the cell phone screen. _Call connected_. He smashed his hand over the earpiece and hoped Steve would have the wisdom to stay quiet and just listen for once. "So, uh, Jamel… what's the plan here? They're going to send someone down that rope any minute now." Danny didn't have a plan, but at least the call would warn Gavin the medic to not come back. "You need a plan."

"I know." Jamel pulled at his collar, his face glistening with sweat.

"A rescuer shows up on that rope and, what? You shoot him?"

"Shut up for a minute."

"Shooting the rescuers isn't a good plan."

"SHUT UP!" Jamel exclaimed, waving the gun haphazardly. "I can't think with your constant blabbering."

"Whoa, okay," Danny placated, raising his hands. "Okay, fine." He closed his eyes for a moment as a fresh thread of sweat trickled down his face. He wiped his head with his already drenched shirt. "We can't stay here forever, you know." Sooner or later- probably sooner- he was going to pass out. He opened his eyes to see Jamel leaning out the edge of the car door and looking down toward the rocks. "I wouldn't try it," Danny cautioned.

"Don't tell me what I can't do," Jamel growled.

"Well what _can_ you do? You can't rappel down the cliff by yourself- you're injured. And you can't go up- they're all up at the top, waiting for you. I guess you could try swimming…"

"Can you not stay quiet for a minute?" Jamel raise the gun again. "Just one minute!" Without warning, the gun went off, narrowly missing Danny's face. Bits of plastic scattered from the impact against the door.

Danny flinched, "Okay, okay." He raised his hands again, but kept quiet. His ears stung from the loud report that now echoed painfully in his head. Based on the shouts above them, the shot hadn't gone unnoticed.

 _"This is Commander McGarrett, Five-0,"_ Steve's voice echoed over a loudspeaker from the top of the cliff. _"Everyone okay down there?"_

Jamel glared at Danny. "We're fine! Back off!" he yelled.

Danny kept quiet, watching curiously to see what Jamel would do next. With a limited number of options available, the likelihood that they would both escape unharmed- or at least not more injured than they already were- seemed miniscule. Fatigued, dehydrated, and battling heat exhaustion, Danny was having trouble coming up with a plan of his own. Pressed into the leg of his pants, the cell phone continued to slowly burn through the last of its battery, the lit screen counting the minutes of the call. If he had a plan, Danny could have used the opportunity to tell Steve; as it was, the battery seemed wasted. Cursing silently for the useless effort, he hung up.

…

 _"So…" Danny pulled out onto the main road, "how was your date last night?"_

 _"What?"_

 _"Your date." Danny slowed to a stop at the light and took the opportunity to size up his opponent. He liked to play to his strengths. Steve's strengths were swimming, hand-to-hand combat, marksmanship, and the usual SEAL skill set. Danny's skill set was talking. "You went out with your girlfriend, right? How was it?"_

 _"Oh. Yeah, um… fine. It was fine."_

 _Danny frowned, an unsettling hunch forming in his mind. "Jamel? Did you kill her?"_

 _"Kill who?"_

 _"Your girlfriend."_

 _"I don't have a girlfriend."_

 _Danny bit his lip. The light turned green and they moved forward in the mass of cars as thousands of commuters tried to beat the morning rush hour in the dark. "Jamel," Danny tried again after a minute, "is my team going to find another body today?"_

 _Jamel didn't respond._

…

A slight buzz alerted Danny to a text on the cell phone.

 _U ok?_

Danny cast a glance at Jamel. He was still preoccupied with staring out the car door.

 _Y._

 _U hung up._

 _Sry. Low btry. Plan?_

 _Working on it._

Danny thought about texting Grace, but didn't want to worry her. He looked again at Jamel. The man had inched into the open window and now had his head and one arm outside the car. Danny blinked in surprise. The car hadn't moved.

He fired off another text to Steve. _Cables?_

 _Almost finished._ _Car stable soon. Don't move yet._

Danny looked closely at Jamel, sizing him up. He might- just might- have a plan. But the threads of an idea forming in his mind terrified him. It was crazy, and would take an insane amount of luck, qualities that normally featured strongly in his partner's haphazard actions, not his own very logical strategies.

Danny took a breath and cleared his throat. "You should ask for water."

"What?" At least Jamel hadn't shot at him this time.

"Water. We're stuck in here for a while no matter what; you might as well ask for some water." Danny felt faint from the heat; he was banking on Jamel being as thirsty as he was. He could see Jamel considering the idea and that it appealed to him. "They'll give it to you," he pressed. "They don't want us to die."

"They don't want _you_ to die," Jamel responded pointedly.

" _Us._ That includes you." _Unfortunately,_ Danny added to himself. "Look, at some point, a SWAT negotiator is going to show up, and he will want to know that you are willing to communicate- not compromise, just talk. If you go ahead and get the ball rolling on that, things may work out better for you down the line."

Jamel grunted. He scrubbed a hand over his face and finally nodded. "Fine. Water."

"Two bottles," Danny reminded. His throat still burned from vomiting earlier.

Jamel made a non-committal noise and stuck his head out the window again. Danny waited a second until Jamel began to shout to someone up above, then edged the phone out to send another text to Steve.

 _Put line 3+ ft from car._

"What are you doing?"

Danny froze.

"I said, what are you doing?" Jamel leaned over. "Is that my phone?"

"I, uh…" Heart racing, Danny hit send and hastily knocked the battery out of the cell phone. He shoved the battery under his leg. "Yeah." He held up the phone with his good hand. "But it doesn't work."

Jamel glared at him. "Hand it over."

Danny slowly held the phone out.

Jamel snatched it and tried to turn it on. The screen remained dark. "Where's the battery?"

"What battery?"

Jamel rolled toward him and shoved the gun against Danny's head. "The cell phone battery- where is it?" Jamel growled.

Danny's hands quivered as he raised them slightly above his torso. "Look- hands empty. I don't have it. Not here."

"You think I'm an idiot?"

The gun bumped painfully against Danny's temple. He winced. "I… I do not think you are an idiot," Danny said carefully. He was sure that Jamel could hear his heart thudding as lied. "But I don't know where the battery is." The small lump felt hot under his leg.

Jamel's free hand came over and began to pat him down, running thoroughly along his shirt and down the seam of his pants. "Are you _sure_ ," he hissed in Danny's ear, "that you don't know where it is?"

Danny held his gaze. "I'm sure." And while he had Jamel's attention on his face, he kicked blindly with his foot, hoping to hit something. His shoe caught a piece of trash, sending it skittering across the car. Jamel whirled around.

Danny grabbed the battery.

"The heck was that?"

"No idea." Danny's eyes flew about the car, searching for a place to hide the little piece of metal. Nothing came to mind.

Jamel returned his attention to the detective. "Quit squirming," he growled as he began patting down Danny's legs around his socks.

Danny coughed and palmed the battery into his bad hand. Fidgeting with the magazines wrapped around his arm, he tried to discreetly slide it into his makeshift cast. "Look, Jamel… if I _did_ have the battery, do you think we'd still be here? Do you think _I_ would still be here?" The battery was stuck in his fingertips; the magazine pages were too tight for him to hide it. Danny wiggled his fingers, trying to loosen the bindings around the 'cast' before Jamel noticed. He rattled on, trying to keep him distracted. "Why would I keep a cell phone and not use it?"

Jamel's fingers ran around his belt and poked uncomfortably in his pockets. "I don't know," he muttered. "You tell me."

Danny hurried on. "I've got a broken arm and probably a concussion and who knows what else, and I'm stuck, lying in my own vomit in this flimsy box of metal on the side of a cliff. If I had a working cell phone, I'd be in an ambulance already on the way to the hospital." At least, that was how Danny had imagined it. Reality hadn't quite lived up to his expectations.

"Has anyone ever told you how annoying you are?" Jamel stopped momentarily and waved the gun haphazardly as he gestured. "You never shut up- ever. I just want a few minutes of quiet. Just for a few minutes- a few seconds!"

"I can be quiet," Danny nodded, trying to buy time. "Just… put the gun down. I'm not a threat. I'm not going anywhere. I'll even stop talking if-"

"Damnit, stop!" Breathing heavily, his face inches from Danny, Jamel scowled and pushed the gun hard against Danny's head. "You're right- I need you alive. But you don't have to be in one piece, so let's play a game."

Danny froze, wincing as the weapon hit a tender spot above his ear.

"It's called the Quiet Game," Jamel continued. "You be quiet, and I don't shoot you. If you're a good boy," he patted Danny's cheek, "then maybe I'll keep you in one piece. You hear me?"

Danny nodded mutely.

"Good," Jamel whispered. "Nice and quiet." He began feeling around Danny's torso, working his way along Danny's good arm.

Danny tried not to look at the cast on his bad arm. He continued to wiggle his fingers, trying to find some way to loosen the clever fitting he had made. Jamel had finished with his good arm. Any moment now, the man would look over and see the battery clutched in his fingers.

Danny flexed, pushing the battery as hard as he could against the cast. Suddenly, the magazine finally loosened and the battery slid between the folds.

A few seconds later, Jamel found the 'cast.' "What is that?" Jamel prodded the magazines a moment, then propped himself on one elbow and squinted at the odd bundle attached to Danny's forearm.

Danny blinked at him.

"Well?"

"So I can speak now?" Danny asked.

"What do you have?"

"Splint. Had to stabilize the arm."

"Show me."

Grimacing, Danny lifted the makeshift creation. "Just magazine pages," he said, praying the battery wouldn't fall out. His arm throbbed angrily. "That's all it is- _Life_ magazine and my belt," he added, risking a few more words.

Jamel reached over and squeezed, not forcefully, but enough to crinkle the papers. Danny gasped as something tender in his arm shifted, and he stifled a cry of pain. Still holding his arm, Jamel inspected the glossy publication belted around it.

"Just magazines?" he asked, his other hand holding the gun to Danny's head. "Nothing else?"

"N… no," Danny panted. He was having trouble focusing; his arm felt like it had been dipped in acid. A single tear leaked out from his eye as he fought the urge to scream. "I don't know… where… the battery is."

Jamel bent closer, scrutinizing, his hand still firmly clenching Danny's splint, until his mouth was inches away from Danny's own. "So help me Detective, if you are lying, I'll throw you out of the car," he threatened in a low growl in Danny's ear.

"I'm not lying, I promise," Danny whispered desperately. He could feel Jamel's breath hot and humid against his hair.

Several seconds of eternity passed.

"Fine." Jamel dropped his arm. Danny cried out as the splint hit the floor, and gagged bile rose suddenly in his stomach. Jamel rolled away toward the other side of the car. "I'm watching you, detective. Don't forget that," he muttered, pointing his gun in Danny's direction.

Danny ignored the threat and closed his eyes. If he hadn't already thrown up, he would've emptied his stomach right now. He focused on his breathing- nice and slow, in and out, in and out, in…. out…

...

 _Clunk_.

Danny yelped and threw out an arm as the car lurched suddenly to one side. "What the _hell_ are you doing?!" he shouted as something snapped with a loud popping noise. The car's body sagged, scraping against the cliff. Danny reached out and snatched the seatbelt with his good hand, wrapping it around his arm. "Are you trying to get us both killed?" he panted as the car groaned indecisively.

Jamel lay on his side, arms outstretched toward a takeout container stuck between the backseat cushions. "It was just here."

"What was just here? The cellphone battery?"

"That cockroach. The little-" Jamel let loose a string of cuss words that would have made Steve proud. "- one that caused the wreck."

"Oh." Danny thought _he_ had caused the wreck, but if Jamel wanted to blame George, that was fine with Danny. He felt the car shift slight as Jamel crawled toward the rear of the vehicle. "Don't do that," he said suddenly as his heart rate jumped. "Just… what happened?"

Jamel grabbed the Styrofoam and turned it over in his hands. "It was just here."

"Okay… Maybe it'll come back out in a minute."

Jamel didn't respond. Danny waited a few moments, then closed his eyes again and tried to relax. He tried not to think of the heat, or the pain, or the ripe smell of his own vomit on his necktie…

"Freaking… it's not here," Jamel muttered as he continued to search.

"It's name is George," Danny murmured, eyes still closed.

"Who is George?"

"The roach."

Jame paused. "This… what?… It has a name?" Incredulous, he twisted toward Danny. "You have a tamed cockroach living in your car?"

"I wouldn't call him _tame_ , but-"

"Bra." Chucking the container out the window, Jamel inched toward the back of the car. "Your car is trash, and that bug is trash. I don't care if it's your weird pet- it needs to die."

Danny watched nervously as the car listed slightly. Above them, he thought he heard shouting. They were probably giving some poor rescuer a heart attack up there. Actually, Jamel was going to give _him_ a heart attack if he wasn't careful. "Hey, uh-"

Jamel paused long enough to glare in his direction.

Danny swallowed. "Do you think you could, ah… hold off on your vendetta until _after_ we're safely back on stable ground? Every time you do that, the car moves and…"

Jamel narrowed his gaze.

"I mean, after all, it's just a-"

The rest of his sentence was cut off as a second cable snapped with a loud _twang._ The car plunged backwards, the windshield shattered, and glass shot up through the interior as both of them dropped toward the empty window.


	5. Chapter 5- Danny dreams of not falling

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and stuck with the story, despite my lack of updates in a timely manner. I do have the ending written, but I am doing a lot of driving right now, and unless somebody wants to give me a Tesla so I can work while the car drives itself, I have to actually watch the road while I go.**

 **…**

 _The car plunged backwards, the windshield shattered, and glass shot up through the interior as both of them dropped toward the empty window._

 **…**

Throwing his good arm out, Danny snagged the armrest and wrapped his legs around the seat. Eternity passed as he free-fell for a split second; then the car jolted to a stop with a hideous _crunch_. A thousand tiny projectiles of metal and glass and plastic flew through the windows, nicking his face and exposed skin. Eyes still squeezed shut, Danny flinched and clung tighter to the seat. In the sudden silence that followed, his harsh breathing echoed loudly in his ears.

" _You in the car-"_ Steve's voice bellowed over the loudspeaker. _"Do not move!_ "

Danny felt his legs slipping. Clawing at the polyester cloth, his hand found the seatbelt, and he wound it around his arm, clinging to it like a lifeline.

" _I repeat- do not make any movements."_

"I'm not moving, not moving, _definitely_ not moving," Danny grunted through clenched teeth. His legs slipped slightly. " _Not falling_ ," he whispered to himself. " _Not falling, not falling, not falling_ …"

" _We are sending down help._ "

His feet, not quite dangling over the empty space beneath the broken window, scrambled for purchase against the cloth seatback. On a whim, he kicked out and landed on part of the frame. Legs shaking, he pressed against it, propping himself up as best he could and shielding his damaged arm against this chest. He felt lightheaded, sick. " _Don't pass out, don't pass out,"_ he murmured.

Somewhere above him, heard the whine of a crane and a droning _beep beep beep_ as a large vehicle backed up to the cliff. Danny wondered how long it would take for them to get down the cliff to the car. He wasn't sure how long he could hold on.

Something- Jamel's foot, it seemed- was on his head, and a knee dug uncomfortably into his belt. Danny hissed a slow, laborious breath through his teeth. He could vaguely hear Jamel cursing vehemently somewhere below him, but a dense ringing clouded his ears.

 _"We're going to attempt to secure the car. Do not move._ "

"We get it, we get it… I think." Danny wished he could find a more comfortable position, but he didn't dare move from where he was now. He winced as Jamel suddenly shifted, his feet landing solidly in Danny's ribs. "Did you not hear him?" he wheezed, twisting so at least his arm was out of the way. " ' _Don't move'_ the nice man said."

"I heard," Jamel growled.

"So what part about not moving is so freaking difficult for you Mr. Death Wish?"

"I'm crammed up in here with my face in a bag of soured Ramen."

"There's plenty of room outside," Danny put in, feeling rather sour himself.

With a loud clanging, the cables from the crane finally landed on the car. Danny couldn't see much through the windows- just rocks and sky and waves- but the sounds he heard were promising. The car creaked and groaned against the strain, but the remaining cables held.

"It was mocking me."

"What?" Squinting up at Jamel, Danny noticed the man glaring somewhere in the direction of the ruined console. "What was mocking you?"

"The cockroach. George."

"It wasn't mocking you. How does a cockroach even 'mock'?" But as Danny spoke, he saw the roach scurry across the ceiling and pause just out of reach of Jamel. Danny blew a puff of air at it, hoping to frighten it off, but George seemed unconcerned. Instead, it inched closer to Jamel and stopped again, antennae twitching. Jamel, looking the other direction, didn't notice.

Danny glanced between the two. _Bad roach_ , he mouthed at George.

George shrugged an antenna.

"I'm gonna kill it," Jamel muttered, still looking the other way.

"Seriously? Did you not learn anything in the last few minutes?" If Danny hadn't been clinging for his life to the seatbelt, he would have thrown in a few well-placed gestures and maybe even a punch or two. "That's what got us into this mess!"

"Relax, man. They fixed the car. You're alive..."

"Don't even start that with me," Danny interrupted. "If you're going to kill me, I'd much rather be shot. If you want to drop out of a car, fall a hundred feet, be maimed on some rocks and then drown or be eaten by sharks, be my guest, but at least shoot me first so I don't have to suffer with you. Is that too much to ask?!"

Jamel chuckled.

"What?!"

"Did anyone ever tell you that you're high-strung?"

Danny opened his mouth to reply, but suddenly the world around him shifted. With a threatening groan and a shudder, the car slowly righted. Danny's body, no longer, suspended in the air, sagged to the floor- the ceiling- in relief.

" _Do not make any sudden movements,"_ Steve announced over the bullhorn. _"This is a temporary fix. We are working to get you out."_

Danny nodded mutely. Now he could go back to worrying about everything else, like dehydration, heat exhaustion, his throbbing arm, and the murderer lying next to him. Jamel had left the cell phone beside him, but it had fallen when the car lurched and was probably in a million pieces by now. Steve would simply have to make do with the short message Danny had sent earlier. _Put line 3+ ft from car._ Would Steve understand? And after the excitement surrounding their narrow escape just now, would he remember?

" _You in the car-_ " Steve's voice echoed over the loudspeaker. " _We're sending down water._ "

Danny exhaled nervously. Steve had remembered. And had hopefully understood. He tensed, preparing himself for what he had to do next.

...

Danny felt the car shift slightly as Jamel rolled toward the door in anticipation of the upcoming delivery. Trying to move as quietly as possible, Danny scooted himself slowly to the right, rotating so that his feet were now pointed toward his adversary. Jamel, head out the door, squinting at something above the car, did not notice.

Reaching his good hand behind him, Danny pushed slightly on the side of the car, testing. The frame held without giving or rocking. This plan- this crazy, very Steve-esque plan- just might work.

A moment later, the promised water bottles, attached to the line via a karabiner, appeared outside the window. As Danny had requested, the line had been lowered a few feet out from the car, and the bottles hovered temptingly nearby but not quite within reach.

Grunting, Jamel grasped the inside of the car's frame and reached outside. The precious water floated just beyond his fingers.

He leaned further, stretched precariously over the empty air.

Danny knew he wouldn't get a better chance. Clenching his teeth, he kicked.

…

 _"Where are we going, Jamel?" They were driving in circles around downtown, and Danny was beginning to get annoyed. 'Jamel,' or whoever he was, seemed agitated and Danny had no desire to upset him further. "Where do you want me to go?"_

 _"That depends."_

 _"On what?" Danny turned left, circling the courthouse for the third time. Maybe someone would notice the battered blue car driving in circles around the historic landmark and get suspicious. Then again, it was early morning and still dark in the city. The sun wouldn't rise over the mountains for at least another hour. No one was out yet to notice anything suspicious._

 _"Depends on how much you want to live. What did you tell your partner?"_

 _"About what?"_

 _"About me."_

 _"Everything," Danny lied. He made a mental note to add money to Grace's Fib Jar. "Something didn't sit right with me after you left, so I called my partner. We've figured it all out." He caught Jamel fidgeting and chose his next words carefully. "The only thing we haven't figured out is a motive- why'd you kill them?"_

 _"None of your business."_

 _"You're going to kill me, right?" Danny didn't wait for him to answer. "If I'm going to die, I want to know why."_

 _Jamel shrugged. "Don't know. Doesn't matter."_

 _"It does to me."_

 _Jamel stared out the window. "Go right," he said suddenly._

 _Danny turned right. "Why did you come to me, anyway? If you knew we were closing in, why take the risk?"_

 _"Wasn't sure how much you knew," Jamel grunted. "Had to find out."_

 _"So the plan was… what? Interrogate me and then kill me?"_

 _"Get on the highway," Jamel instructed. He jabbed the gun into Danny's side. "And quit asking questions."_

 _"Okay, okay, take it easy." Danny turned obediently toward the H3, feeling every slight bump in the road through the gun. "I'm not going anywhere. You can put that thing down."_

 _Jamel didn't respond._

 _They left the city behind them, curving around the base of Diamond Head and then on toward the dry and grassy south-eastern point. The traffic slowly died off and the road narrowed to two lanes._

 _It was here, between the turquoise overlooks and volcanic hills, that Danny suddenly noticed the gun wasn't pointed at him anymore. Jamel was preoccupied, looking at something else, something near the glovebox. Distracted, the barrel had slipped and angled downward toward the filthy upholstery._

 _Danny knew he might not get a second chance._

 _He jerked the wheel, throwing them both sideways as the car careened wildly to the left, scraping against the guardrail. The gun flew out of Jamel's hand, going off as it struck the front dash. Forgetting the road, Danny lunged for the weapon as the car swerved, first towards the hills and then towards the cliffs. The last thing Danny heard was the metallic crunch of the guardrail grinding against the side of the car. Then his head smashed against the window and all he knew was darkness._


	6. Chapter 6- Dreams of air conditioning

**A/N: Next to last chapter. In the meantime, my luggage is… somewhere in the world, my body doesn't know what time zone it lives in, my belongings are scattered across 3 or 4 different 'homes' and we're moving 600 miles away. And I need a new job.**

 **On the plus side, I can probably turn the baggage issues into a hilarious story with our two favorite team…**

Last time: _Jamel grasped the inside of the car's frame and reached outside._

 _The precious water bottles floated just beyond his fingers._

 _Jamel leaned further, stretching precariously over the empty air._

 _Danny knew he wouldn't get a better chance. Clenching his teeth, he kicked._

 _…_

" _Danny? Danny, can you hear me?_ "

Danny heard, but it didn't register. His eyes fixated on his arm. The force of the kick and the sudden shift of the car against the cables had jolted his arm, and now, despite the cast, the bone had punctured the skin.

It didn't hurt as bad as he thought it would. In fact, it didn't hurt at all really. Not yet.

He stared at the jagged bit of bone and the blood oozing out around the edges of the skin and wondered why he wasn't screaming in agony. It _should_ hurt. Somewhere inside, his body instinctively knew it should be hurting; it understood something was horribly wrong. His stomach roiled, and Danny suddenly turned away, spitting up bile.

Then he lay there, throat burning. How was there anything left? He thought he'd emptied his stomach earlier.

The acrid odor of the acid ushered in a fresh wave of nausea, and he retched one more time, then turned his head quickly away.

His throat ached. Danny wiped a shaking hand across his mouth. "I'm here," he tried to call out, his voice scratching just above a whisper. He turned his head toward the empty doorway where Jamel had crouched just moments before. "Steve?" he tried again. He realized the car was tilted again, angled toward the open doorway. One of the cables must have slipped. Reaching out, Danny snagged the nearest seatbelt and wrapped it around his good arm. "I could use some help here!" he called hoarsely as the car shuddered and listed another several inches.

" _Danny, if you can hear me, sit tight. We're coming down to you._ "

We. We are coming down. Did that mean Steve was coming down, too? Danny's eyes watered and he clenched his teeth against the searing pain in his arm. Something clanged against the floor- no, the _roof_ \- of the car as a new rope was lowered, but Danny barely heard it. His arm hurt, bad. He moaned, trying not to scream.

"Sir? Detective Williams?"

Danny cracked open one eye and saw a watery image of the same young man- Gary? Gavin?- suspended on a rope outside the door.

"Sir, can you hear me?" the man asked.

"Yeah," Danny grunted tersely. He swallowed as the car swayed slightly.

"How are you feeling?"

"Hurts." Danny knew his eyes were wet. A pained hiss escaped his lips. "Bad."

"I bet so. Looks like the car really did a number on you," Gavin said sympathetically, adjusting something on his harness.

Danny squinted at something outside, just behind Gavin. "Water?" he rasped. He licked his lips and looked hopefully at Gavin. The bottles Steve had sent down for the ruse glittered outside in the sunlight, still just beyond reach. Danny wasn't sure how much longer he could last without water. His lips had cracked, his throat was brutally sore, and the bile had left a nasty aftertaste in his mouth.

Gavin pulled himself carefully inside the car and inched across to Danny's position. "No can do, sorry. We've got to get you out of here."

Fresh tears sprang to Danny's eyes. "Need water," he begged hoarsly.

"I hear you, but until we know the extent of your injuries, no water." Gavin managed a sympathetic half-smile and pulled a small baggie out of his pocket. "But I can give you this. You can suck on that, just don't swallow," he said, placing the damp cloth in Danny's good hand.

Irritated, Danny stuck a corner of the cloth in his mouth and closed his eyes as Gavin poked and prodded.

"Better?" Gavin was already examining Danny's arm.

"Mm," Danny grunted, feeling marginally less like a desert. The cloth did nothing to ease his pain. "Still hurts."

"Your arm? I bet it does." Gavin jotted down some notes. Then he pulled out a walkie-talkie and read off some numbers.

Danny blinked hazily. "Sorry," he mumbled as the hot stench of vomit wafted unpleasantly through the air.

"Hey, no problem brah. See this all the time." Unfazed, Gavin maneuvered himself above Danny's head and began to examine something along his scalp.

Danny winced as Gavin hit a tender spot.

"Can't even smell it anymore," the medic continued, dabbing at the spot again. "Got a nasty cut here."

"Just one?" Danny tried to joke. It kept his mind off his arm. He squinted as Gavin shone a light in his eyes. "Ow."

"Sorry," Gavin responded unapologetically. "Definite concussion. Were you unconscious?"

Danny grunted affirmative and closed his eyes as the light pulled away.

"How long?"

"Uh…" Danny tried to do the math in his head. "3… 4… don't know," he finally gave up.

"Okay, okay," Gavin said easily.

The car groaned and shifted again. Danny tensed, unable to tell which direction it had tilted.

"Hey, relax brah. They just pulled it up again. They've got us."

"Easy for you to say," Danny murmured around the damp napkin. _You can leave anytime you want,_ he thought, but was too tired to vocalize. Danny heard the scratching of a pen on his notepad as Gavin jotted more notes.

"I'm going to stabilize your arm next. Not gonna lie, Detective Williams- it's going to hurt."

"Great."

"Still got that napkin I gave you?"

Danny clenched his teeth down on it and squeezed his eyes shut. "Mhm." He felt Gavin's hands on his arm and winced. "That's it?"

Gavin barked a short laugh. "I haven't even started."

…

Danny briefly passed out. When he opened his eyes again, he found Gavin frowning worriedly a few inches from his face.

"We need to get you out of here. You don't look good."

"You think?" Danny snarked hoarsely. His eyes passed over the plastic and gauze stabilizing his arm. Then he heard something and tensed. "Noise?"

"Rescue team had to re-stabilize the car. Again."

Danny noticed a slight rocking motion.

"They should be on their way down now. They'll remove the other windshield and slide you out the bottom- well, the top- of the vehicle." Gavin scooted across the car toward the open door.

"Where… uh?" Danny waved his good hand loosely. He didn't want to be left alone again.

"Relax, brah. I've got a present for you." Winking, Gavin slid out of the car and was hoisted out of sight.

Danny wrinkled his nose, annoyed. "Not good time… for surprises," he muttered, closing his eyes.

"Really?" a new voice answered. "I'll just go back up, then."

Danny's eyes shot open. "Steve?"

"Hey. Just take it easy." Steve unclipped from the rope and folded his large frame into the car. Edging toward Danny's position, he grinned and settled in just above his head. "Hey buddy."

"Hey," Danny tried to grin back, but failed. Distracting pain radiated from his broken arm. "You part of… rescue team?"

"Something like that."

"Rope?" Danny looked pointedly at the empty carabiner on Steve's harness.

"Eh," Steve shrugged. "How you holding up?"

Danny pulled at his sweaty shirt collar with his good hand. "Roasted turkey in the oven." Four words together. He gasped as another surge of pain took his breath away. "Any way… they can… can hurry up?"

"They're working on it," Steve said, ignoring Danny's irritated huff. "Sending a board down now."

"A board?" Flushing, Danny tried to push himself up, but Steve held him back. "I don't…"

"You were in a bad wreck; it's just a precaution."

"Ugh," but Danny was too hot and uncomfortable to think of anything else to say. "What, uh… what happened… to Jamel?"

Steve glanced toward the door. "You don't need to worry about him."

Danny grimaced. Another figure appeared in the doorway and shoved a board toward Steve.

"Detective, we'll have you out of there in just a few minutes."

"Great." Danny tried to hold still as they transitioned him onto a backboard, but couldn't help the grunt of pain as his arm was jolted in the process. Foam pads were placed on either side of his head, effectively locking him into place. Then a large blanket was wrapped over his legs to protect him from glass before someone else began working on the windshield. Steve stayed at his side the whole time, holding his good hand and, Danny noticed, attempting to surreptitiously check his pulse.

"No touchy-feely," Danny quipped, pulling away. "I'm fine." The blanket exacerbated the hot stickiness of the car-oven and he wondered if his body would spontaneously combust at some point. "Done?"

"Them? Yeah, they're almost done. Just don't move."

 _Like I can do anything else._ But Danny was, perhaps for the first time in his life, tired of talking. Strapped in as he was, Danny couldn't even turn his head to get a breath of fresh air. The hard pads holding his head firmly in place kept his eyes pointed toward the seat above his head. Between the heat and the blanket and the rather packed car, he felt more than a little claustrophobic.

"What's wrong?" Steve had noticed Danny beginning to pant.

"Move… a little… left?"

Frowning, Steve scooted a few inches over. "Why?" Glancing behind him, he saw the open doorway. "Oh."

"Need… to breathe." The air was still stagnant, but the sight of blue sky provided some relief. "What's he doing?" Immobile, Danny pointed with his eyes to the man beside Steve, who was brandishing a large needle.

"IV with fluids, Detective Williams," the man said. "This may pinch."

Danny eyed the needle apprehensively. His arm still throbbed and he wished the needle contained some of the good stuff. "I don't get… a say in this… do I?"

The man laughed. "Nope. Sorry sir."

Steve squeezed his hand. "Tell me about the wreck. You've told me about Jamel, but I haven't heard how you flipped your neighbor's car off a cliff yet." With a chuckle, Steve added, "How are you going to pay him back, anyway?"

"No clue. Don't need a car payment… on top of everything."

"So Jamel? What happened?"

Danny closed his eyes and tried to think back to the wreck early that morning. "It's kind of hazy." He tried to ignore his arm, but it was increasingly hard to do. "Jamel took me… to the car… drove downtown… I almost made it… to the Palace," Danny flashed a grin. "Then he caught on."

"What did he do?"

"Uh, waved the gun around… stuff… threatening remarks… you know." Danny's fingers mimed the actions in miniature. "Idiot tried to cuff me… to the steering wheel. Didn't realize… I couldn't turn the wheel…"

…

 _"This isn't like the movies, Jamel. You can't actually drive while handcuffed to the wheel in real life. Besides, I'm not going anywhere- you have the gun."_

 _"Fine. Just… hold still," Jamel grunted, leaning over to unfasten the handcuffs. "There? Happy."_

 _"Just peachy." Danny flexed both wrists. "Think we can leave the parking lot now? Or are you going to find something else to complain about?"_

 _"Do you ever shut up?" Jamel cut off his response with a wave of the gun. "Just… just drive, okay."_

 _"Where to?" Danny asked in response, pulling onto the road. "Ala Moana? Diamond Head?"_

 _"Uh, yeah. Diamond Head."_

 _"Okay."_

 _The next fifteen minutes passed in silence. The skyscrapers of downtown passed away behind them and they entered the suburbs, skirting the base of Diamond Head as traffic slowly dwindled._

"So what happened next?"

Danny blinked. The medic had finished with the IV and was now pressing gently on Danny's abdomen. "Ow."

"That hurts?" The man pressed again, confirming Danny's wince. He jotted something down in his notepad. "."

"Danny." Steve tapped his arm. "What happened next?"

"Uh…George. George happened…" but Danny didn't get a chance to explain. There was suddenly a low cracking noise and, with a shudder, the windshield pulled away. A rush of cool air filled the space and Danny's eyes were suddenly damp. He blinked as tears rolled away down the side of his face, unable to wipe them away.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," Danny sniffed. "Just the fresh air, you know?"

"Mmm." Steve patted him on the arm.

"You tell anyone I cried and I'll beat you up," Danny added.

Steve raised an eyebrow and made no comment.

"Commander, shouldn't you be on rope?" one of the newcomers asked, peering in through the new opening.

"Already told him," another man grunted. "We're ready, sir, whenever you are."

And after that, there was nothing to say. The fasteners were checked, several ropes and cables were brought in, Danny's backboard was settled into a wire frame which they slid through the car, and suddenly he was lowered through the windshield and out into the sunlight. The world tilted and wavered as the basket swung away from the car. Bright sunlight flashed across the sea and a stiff wind buffeted his gurney back and forth above the waves. Unable to turn his head, he closed his eyes to the vertigo and rubbed his fingers nervously against the straps as a crane hoisted him to the top of the cliff.

Someone cheered. A crowd of people surrounded him, and there was more prodding and poking, but no more questions. Another person unfastened him from the basket, and Steve appeared a few minutes later to help lift the backboard and carry him toward the waiting ambulance.

"Hang on, stop," Danny suddenly blurted.

They stopped.

"Turn me around."

One of the medics frowned, but Steve knew what he wanted. Motioning to the others to follow, he turned Danny's board toward the cliff and tilted him until the wreck was visible. Balanced precariously between two narrow prongs of the cliff, the car swayed slightly, bucking against the cables anchoring it in place. Both ends were smashed, all but one window shattered, and the driver's side had been nearly caved in.

Danny gulped. "I was in that? In there?" He wasn't sure how the car had even landed like that.

"They said it was a miracle you survived," Steve said, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. Danny suddenly appreciated just how much stress the SEAL must have been under while watching helplessly from the top of the cliff. "Just one inch, maybe less, and you'd both have been dead."

Danny swallowed thickly. "One inch?"

"Or less."

"I think I'm going to pass out."

Steve rubbed his arm. "Hey, you're safe now. You're all good."

"No, I mean… I really think I'm… I'm going to pass… pass…" Unable to focus, Danny had trouble finishing. The world spun in a dizzying circle and he suddenly felt very lightheaded.

"Danny?" Steve's face appeared above him. "Stay with me, buddy. We're headed to the hospi…"

But Danny didn't hear him.


	7. Chapter 7- Epilogue

**A/N: There's some slight inconsistencies here that don't quite jive with the first cockroach story. If you aren't a detail person, it should be fine. If I ever get bored enough, I'll go back and adjust the original story so that this works seamlessly.**

"What's that?" Propped up in a hospital bed with pillows, his arm immobilized in a sling, Danny pushed away his lunch tray (which hadn't tasted good at all) and gestured at the small cigarette box in Steve's hands. "Please don't tell me you started smoking."

Steve didn't smile. "Leilani found this in Jamel's clothes," he began, tapping the battered cigarette box with one finger. "Apparently cockroaches aren't immune to drowning. I, uh… I thought you might want to have it." Steve passed the box across to Danny. "I wouldn't open it, though. He's a bit waterlogged."

Danny cracked it open and made a face. "I'm touched. And surprised. I'd figure you'd burn him." He cocked an eyebrow. "What changed?"

Steve grinned. "It was tempting. But…" he settled into the chair next to the bed, "he did save your life. Or so you said. You never finished telling me what happened."

"Oh. Yeah." One hand resting respectfully on the box, Danny leaned back and closed his eyes. "Not much to tell, really. We were headed south on the highway. Jamel was on edge, had a gun in my side. Then George came out and distracted him, hissed, ran all over the place… you know how he is. I saw an opportunity and I took it." He shrugged. "You know the rest."

"You couldn't find a way to disarm Jamel _without_ driving off a cliff?"

Danny cracked an eye open and glared. "We don't all have your skill set, Steven."

"You'll notice I don't have your injuries, either."

"Shut it," Danny warned. "I'm injured. You're supposed to play nice."

"Suddenly sensitive Daniel?"

"George may be dead, but I'm certain he has plenty of relatives who would love a certain nice pickup truck," Danny threatened. He bit back a chuckle when Steve scowled. "Seriously: thanks for bringing him over. It means a lot to me."

"Anytime."

…

They buried George in the small cigarette box in the grass in Steve's backyard, just out of reach of the waves. There was no eulogy except a brief thank you from Danny who felt indebted to the roach for its final, life-saving sacrifice. He pushed the dirt and grass back over the hole and Steve pressed it down with his foot. Then they stood side-by-side, staring out at the waves.

"Bummer about your neighbor's car," Steve commented after a moment.

Danny shrugged. "It was on its last leg anyway. He was trying to get rid of it. I think insurance will pay more than any buyer would have."

"So what are you going to drive?"

"What do you mean?"

"Until your car gets out of the shop."

"My car was fixed on Tuesday, Steven."

Steve turned to him in surprise, but Danny gave no indication he had noticed. "I was actually going to pick it up the afternoon that we were in Kailua, but I ran out of time."

Steve didn't know what to say. He searched for some hint of humor in Danny's face, but the man remained impassively stoic. "So… you could've been driving your own car? Almost all week long?" He was astonished when Danny nodded. "So why didn't you pick it up?"

"Because once I saw you with George, I realized I had found someone- or something- that annoyed you more than I did. It was an opportunity I couldn't pass up."

In the dimming light, Steve saw a smirk clot Danny's face. He snorted. "You kept that stupid car all week long because of a bug?"

"Yeah."

"That's messed up, man."

"Says you, Mr. I-Hate-Bugs."

"Was it worth it?" Steve asked. He was surprised as a deep, mischievous smile grew behind the detective's eyes. A sudden suspicion entered his mind and his eyes narrowed. How much, exactly, did Danny know about their plot to kill George and rid the car of its resident cockroach? Did he realize that the Five-0 team and his own daughter had been in league against the beast for the past week? Five seconds ago, Steve would have said Danny was clueless, but now…

As though he could read his partner's thoughts, Danny's face cracked into a wide smile. Reaching up with his good hand, he patted Steve's cheek in an endearing, if mafia-esque gesture.

"Oh yes," he said. "It was worth it."


End file.
